


let the children remember the sun

by revanchxst (BadWolfGirl01)



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Young Anakin Skywalker, background mention of angsty things but it's okay everything's nice and happy rn, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23225821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/revanchxst
Summary: Anakin brings his mom home a gift.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Shmi Skywalker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38
Collections: All The Nice Things Flash Exchange 2020





	let the children remember the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rivulet027](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivulet027/gifts).



> title is from "the prayer" by Celine Dion.
> 
> i was so excited to get a Shmi-centric request for this! Shmi is a character i love dearly who doesn't get enough love and i'm so glad i got the chance to write a lil smol thing of her and Ani being happy <3 i hope you like it!

“Mom, look!”

The door to Shmi Skywalker’s home flies open and she can’t help a small, fond smile as Anakin comes careening in, grease smeared across his cheeks and his blond hair tangled and mussed with dirt and sweat (it’s getting too long, she needs to cut it again, if he’ll sit still long enough to let her). “Did Watto let you come home early, Ani?” she asks, stepping away from the little kitchenette area with a damp cloth in hand, crouching down in front of Anakin and stilling him to wipe at the dark stains on his face. “Look at you, you’re a mess.”

“I made you something, mom,” he says, cheerful, and she notices he’s got one arm behind his back, like he’s trying to hide something. (It makes Shmi’s heart hurt, sometimes, how sweet and bright her son is - between his unusual abilities that resemble the legends of the Jedi and the fact that she’s growing older, old enough to not be so useful, worth so much less now than he is, she can’t help but be afraid that they’ll be separated before she has the chance to teach him everything he needs to know, about this life they lead. But he’s meant for greater things than this, she’s known that since he was born, the greatest thing that’s ever happened to her.)

“Well, what is it?” Shmi asks, gentle, smiling and putting a hand on Anakin’s shoulder.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, and she smiles wider but does as requested, tucking the rag into her belt for the moment. There’s the sound of something metal clicking and shifting, and then he says, “Okay, you can open them!”

He’s so  _ happy, _ her son. She wishes she could capture this moment forever, something quiet and soft and golden, to hold close to her heart and look back on when times get hard (as they inevitably will). So Shmi waits, a moment, before opening her eyes, commits the ring of laughter in Anakin’s voice and the warmth on her face to memory.

Anakin’s holding a little droid in his hands, his eyes (blue as the suns-scorched sky) alight with pride, smile stretching so wide across his cheeks. The droid’s chassis is scratched and beaten, the bottom edge lined with brushes that are worn and rather un-uniform in color, everything cobbled together from pieces of scrap and burnt out machinery.

It’s a cleaning droid.

“Oh, Ani,” Shmi says, takes the droid and carefully sets it down so she can tug her son into her chest, “it’s  _ wonderful, _ thank you.”

“Watto said I could take parts from the old stuff he can’t sell,” Anakin says, “and I thought it’d make things easier on you, mom, I know you get really tired.”

She does, it’s true. Shmi is no longer young, and some of the things Watto requires are- difficult, with the suns beating into her like they’re going to bake away her bones (but Shmi is a child of the desert, and the brutality of the suns is a comfort; Tatooine is a harsh world, but the desert protects her people, and Shmi can think of no place she’ll be safer), and getting down onto her hands and knees to clean the floors of the little space Watto has given her to live in can be too much, sometimes. She’s tried to hide that from Anakin, some - he’s only seven, he’s too young to worry about her.

But of course Anakin has always been wise, for his age, her brilliant engineer, and with his strange empathy it’s almost impossible to keep things from him.

“This is amazing, Ani,” and Shmi hugs him again, although he grumbles and twists out of her arms. “How long have you been working on this?”

Anakin shrugs. “A while,” he says. “I had to find all the right parts. It’s gonna take longer to make a protocol droid, but I’m gonna build you one, mom, I promise.”

Shmi laughs, smooths Anakin’s hair back off his forehead. “I’m sure you will, dear,” she says. “I’m so  _ proud _ of you, my son.”

Not everything will be good, she knows - they are still slaves. But for a little while, maybe things can stay like this; golden-warm and sweet, and bright enough to chase the dark times away.


End file.
